Bone-Fiddle verse 221B: "Lake Effect"
Feb. 26th, 2015 02:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vulgarweedA December snowstorm shortly after their first case together has John in a pensive mood. It's not sex with a man that's a challenging new frontier...
(Sherlock/John, PG-13)
John shuffled out onto the porch of Sherlock's house in his pajamas and hiking boots. The porchlight was the only artificial illumination; the white in the night sky and the white on the ground reflected each other and cast an eerie, pale light.
It was one of those magical nights when the snow was coming down hard and heavy, but there wasn't a single breath of wind, so every twig on every tree was outlined in white, and the air was heavy with a musical silence. John could hear every flake as it fell.
John breathed it in with his eyes, his whole soul rejoicing. He heard Sherlock coming up behind him, and sighed and settled as Sherlock's hands slid around his belly and drew him close.
“I haven't seen this in years,” John said quietly. Sherlock rested his chin on John's head.
“You missed snow?”
“Yes,” John said, twisting his head around for a kiss, and receiving it.
In that moment he knew – if he'd shared this with a woman he'd been sleeping with for weeks, he'd say it. Three words.
John bit it back – he meant it so much, but had no idea how Sherlock would react. Instead, he reached back to the front of Sherlock's jeans, fondling, and whispered softly, “it's beautiful.”
~end
(Sherlock/John, PG-13)
John shuffled out onto the porch of Sherlock's house in his pajamas and hiking boots. The porchlight was the only artificial illumination; the white in the night sky and the white on the ground reflected each other and cast an eerie, pale light.
It was one of those magical nights when the snow was coming down hard and heavy, but there wasn't a single breath of wind, so every twig on every tree was outlined in white, and the air was heavy with a musical silence. John could hear every flake as it fell.
John breathed it in with his eyes, his whole soul rejoicing. He heard Sherlock coming up behind him, and sighed and settled as Sherlock's hands slid around his belly and drew him close.
“I haven't seen this in years,” John said quietly. Sherlock rested his chin on John's head.
“You missed snow?”
“Yes,” John said, twisting his head around for a kiss, and receiving it.
In that moment he knew – if he'd shared this with a woman he'd been sleeping with for weeks, he'd say it. Three words.
John bit it back – he meant it so much, but had no idea how Sherlock would react. Instead, he reached back to the front of Sherlock's jeans, fondling, and whispered softly, “it's beautiful.”
~end
